


Niah: Origns

by rayeliann



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 12:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3289925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayeliann/pseuds/rayeliann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Before Niah Trevelyan became the Inquisitor- or the Herald- she was the daughter of Bann Trevelyan.  </p><p>How does a young noble girl learn to be a rogue in a quiet city like Ostwick?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Niah: Origns

_**“There’s something wild in you, girl.”** _

When Niah closed her eyes, she could almost hear her father’s voice repeating the familiar phrase. He’d said it often, and fondly, in a way that made Niah’s chest swell with pride, and her jaw jut out at a defiant angle.

Stone walls had always felt confining and heavy. The air inside them was stale and dense - it made it hard for her to breathe. It was at a very young age when Niah first scaled the outside wall of their mansion, and pulled her tiny frame up onto the roof. Her arms had been shaking, exhausted and threatening to drop her into the ever-waiting street.  But the wide, open sky had pulled her upwards, and the air was sweet and cool in her lungs. She had lain flat on her back, staring up into the sky for hours before she realized there were far more interesting things to be seen in the city below.

Niah grew stronger, older as the years went by, and she learned how to jump from roof-top to roof-top and land light on her feet. People rarely looked up, and Niah watched, and followed, collecting secrets.

Her family eventually found out. Her father’s (third) wife had been absolutely horrified when the city guard had knocked on the door with Niah in tow. She threw a fantastic tantrum, wailing and going on about disgrace. Her father fought back the slightest of amused grins, and generously tipped the guardsmen, ensuring their silence.

A week later Niah started riding lessons. After that, archery. When it was time for her brother Abelard’s first hunting trip, her brothers had been scandalized to learn she was to go too. This ignited a rivalry between the two older boys, Abelard and Janpier, and Niah.

They teased her for being a girl - ribbons tied onto her bow, a quiver full of flowers, sarcastic bowing and over embellished manners that were not at all polite. There were endless comments about her attire, teasing over her preference for men’s breeches over a full skirt, and constant yanking of her braids.

So she tied her own ribbons on her bow- colors of her choosing, and turned the flowers from her quiver into crowns, gifts for her father. She curtsied and demurred in response to their jests, always a ladylike smile on her face, a mask of etiquette and propriety. She refused to feel ashamed of her clothing choices. She had tailors make up breeches using sparkling silk thread embellishments. And she began to pin her braids up.

When her brothers finally realized their ridicule could not dissuade her, that their torment only made her stronger, they changed tactics.

Abelard had apologized… and then promptly explained to Niah that it was not her fault she had a wild heart. Her mother had been Fereldan, and no doubt there was some Chasind blood in her lineage. Fereldans were an uncivilized people, they wallowed in the mud and worshiped dogs. They could not hold her to the same standard they held themselves - after all, they were half Orlesian.

She had broken his nose.

Janpier had gone on some grand hunt with a mass of other nobles and their offspring, and had come back with a monstrous wolf-pelt. He’d presented it to her in the library when he arrived home, dropping the stinking hairy thing right on top of her lessons.

“What do you think Sister? A pelt fit for a true nobleman and hunter, yes?” Janpier had asked, tossing his fair hair, and looking down his nose at her. Niah had returned the smile cooly. Years of her brothers’ torment had made her strong, tolerant, and immune to pointed slights. She swept her cool grey gaze over her brother, measuring her response appropriately.

“If you wish to hunt wolves, by all means do so. I will not object. But as for me? I aim to hunt lions.”


End file.
